I Love You's
by Playingaaronburr
Summary: There's a part of Liz Taylor, a rather big part, that often wonders whether or not this is really a good idea or not. And yet every night she ignores, the fear, the worry, that part of herself, for the warmth she finds in his arms.


**AN at the bottom so go ahead and start reading!**

* * *

Part 1 - Morning

He likes the waking up in the mornings.

It's weird because he's never been a morning person before.

But if he wants to catch her before she leaves he has to get down there before three.

And the ride down the elevator only adds to the suspense so when the Countess isn't trying to make him turn her fiancée on he'll sleep on the second floor so he can run down the stairs and look completely natural when she's gone to grab something she's left.

For someone so put together, Liz Taylor leaves her coffee or shawl quite often.

She notices his behavior but has learned he won't come down if she doesn't disappear for a few minutes, so she'll always slip to the back to grab something she knows she doesn't need.

She doesn't realize that she's pulling him closer every day.

He doesn't realize that soon he'll want to live just to see that smile on her face.

* * *

Part 2 – The First Time

The first time they make love is too much for them both. He screams just a bit too loud, she feels just a bit too much. His lips never strayed from her body, the smooth silk of the dress she wore erotic against the heat of his kiss. Her hands never leave him either, her hands, fingers, clawing into his back as he lost himself inside her.

The first time they do anything she cries afterward. The familiar, yet different, taste of betrayal is bitter like a lemon. But he soothes her with kisses and whispers and soon her troubles melt away under his persistent hands.

And naked under him, her body his for the taking, she's never felt so self-conscious than the first time she stole her wives' pink muslin dress.

And then she forgot everything and at that moment she was a virgin girl.

The first time they do anything he wants to stay there forever. Beside her, near her, inside her. He has no regrets but has plenty to fear. Even though she's never outright forbidden him from having sex with other people she's never actually outright said it either. But he ignores the warning bells in his head for the heat of the body below him. The warnings of his head, some deep old thoughts of predators and preys, are silence by the chimes of gold earrings that bounce against his shoulder.

* * *

Part 3 – Rough and Gentle

He's usually very gentle with her. Even when they go hard and fast his hands never tug only suggest. His mouth never rips only, gently, bites. And his thrusts are never punishing but piercing.

As if he gets off on her pleasure.

But when he is rough, when he holds her down and squeezes her wrists. When he bites enough to where blood almost touches the surface. When his lips bruise her fingertips.

That's when she sees something she names heaven.

He has no problem when she takes control. When she takes the reigns.

That's something almost too erotic to describe.

When she rides him, when she ties him down, he feels the most intense pleasure.

When Liz controls him, holds him, stills him, it's as if he's the beast she's tamed.

As if she is taming a wild animal.

But he doesn't feel like he's caught in the spiders web but like he has no problem with being tame (as long as Liz does it) he just likes the chase.

So does she.

* * *

Part 4 – A Part

There's a part of Liz Taylor, a rather big part, that often wonders whether or not this is really a good idea or not. And yet every night she ignores, the fear, the worry, that part of herself, for the warmth she finds in his arms. She feels very selfish.

There are two parts of himself, or at least Tristan has always felt like two people. There was the bad boy that lured the Countess in and the real him that Liz is pulling out. So even though he fears what the Countess will do to _her_ if she ever finds out he risks it all to have her soft hands in his own. He feels very selfish.

* * *

Part 5 – A Gift

The first gift he ever gives her is cheap. Sweetly inexpensive. Weirdly grandiose in its color and yet heavy and sturdy in its make. It's a velvet colored book mark with a single gold circle to line the outside cover of whatever book her fingers tough. The curls of a "T" sit at its end.

"I like you in this color"

She gives him just a moment of care, her breath hitching in her throat when he kisses the soft skin beneath her jaw but pulls away a second later when his fingers go just a bit too low. They just got done, and now they're lounging on the bed, but she can't risk her lip stick getting smeared again.

"Boys today, she murmurs, always so forward"

He lets her slip away and he instantly regrets it.

He never realized how much he missed her, wanted her, craved her, until she pulls away from his arms.

He gives her a heartbreaking smile – eyes bright with light and warmth and…something else she's not quite yet ready to give a name to.

"Only to you Lizzy," he whispers softly.

"Just you"

* * *

Part 2 of Part 5 – Or Two

The first gift she ever gives him is a thin black book with a large gold "SH." The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes might seem like an easy book to some, but she has a feeling he'll enjoy the strange twists and turns of the world's only consulting detective. He stares at the book in awe before giving her soft kiss on the nose.

She settles into his arms and is prepared to wait out the night there.

Leaving his arms is simply not an option.

And then his phone vibrates.

She doesn't see the texts but she knows the change in his face, how his eyes are a little downcast, his shoulders are a little more hunched over, his mouth a little more firm.

And he shoves his feet through his pants, pulls on his boots and leaves with only a "good night."

And Liz, who thought she could handle "sharing" him - digs her nails into her palms, and lays down, and cries.

* * *

Part 6 – Lay Next To Me

He comes back a moment (technically hours) later – showered, hair still wet, brand new clean clothes and a dash of cologne. He doesn't want her to think about what when on – even though he knows she knows. At first, his senses are on red alert, the chocolate taste of her blood filling the air. But on closer inspection, it's just her nails too tight in her hands. And that's when he notices the smeared lipstick on the back of her hand from where she tried to hold back her sobs. And the run of her blue mascara around her cheeks.

There's something so devastating about seeing his put together lover so distraught that she hadn't even bothered to clean off her face, but he only slips into bed and pulls her against his chest, curling his hands around her own so that she won't hurt her beautiful hands.

* * *

Part 7 – Like A War

They don't fight.

It's not a fight.

Not really.

It's...more like a war.

There are two sides – his and hers.

It all started out simple enough he made a comment about how there was no _(goddamn_ _fucking)_ way that he was gay.

And she, angered, hurt, made a comment about braindead models.

And then it all went to hell.

But she doesn't really mind the hell.

Because even though he stormed out the first night, he's always in her bed every night after. Albeit a little snarl in his mouth and a little glare in his eyes. And even though he doesn't say a word he still hangs out around the counter, a little further away but still near enough to touch. He'll still kiss her before he finally falls asleep, his exhausted mouth finding her in the dark, he still holds her gently to his chest, his thumbs stroking her stomach. And she still makes him his nightly drink (much like her own wife did, so, so long ago.) A cup of blood, mint and whiskey (that she's pretty sure it burns at goes down.)

Yeah, even at war the two commanders will still put their swords down – at least for a while.

* * *

Part 8 – Commitment

The question is completely out of the blue.

"Do you want children"

There's no pause in her step, only the slight widening of her eyes that he has learned to see.

Because there's something more to the question then a thought of the future.

There's the underlying question of commitment.

Because the real question is really "will you have children _with me_."

* * *

Part 9 - Meals

They eat together. Meals.

Every night at exactly 7:37 pm.

Unless the Countess calls.

* * *

Part 10 - "I Love You"

They whisper "I love you" in their bed, for once the walls of the Cortez not haunted by blood or rage or violence. They whisper it in passing, for once, the hotel is content to leave _their_ bubble of hope alone. They murmur it just after they wake up. He whispers it in her ear just before he leaves, his heart aching to go back to her side. She says it with her eyes, every time she sees him they get just a bit brighter, her fingers form familiar claws and his back (as if on que) aches from where she held him just the night before.

They say "I love you" through the swish of a skirt, the jaunt of a walk, the turn of a page, the words just on the edge of leaving their mouths.

Pliable, like dough, before they are swallowed down and the two finally speak.

* * *

Part 10 – Normal

The day before he dies is pretty normal.

The Countess didn't call. Liz goes to work. He drinks blood & coffee. They talk about Poe and argue about the (in)significance of "The Raven." She kisses him behind the desk when she has to show guests upstairs. He murmurs his gratitude when she fills his glass back up. Their day is picturesque in that they just simply have to be.

So, it's a shock that the next day he's dead.

* * *

Part 11 – Watching

He watches from afar.

Trying to cradle any of Liz's falls from the chaos surrounding her.

And when she sleeps he lays beside her – only just not touching.

* * *

Part 12 – Misfit Toys

He thinks there's a lot to be said about his family of misfit toys.

Because Santa definitely ain't giving any of them away the next time X-mas rolls around.

But there's something reassuring about knowing they'll keep his secret.

That they won't tell Liz when he's standing right beside her, or that he's still checking her out even when his heart can't beat, or that he spends most of his time staring at her, or reading the thick volumes of Defoe and Chaucer she gave him, his copy of Sherlock always in is hand.

He watches her and smiles, beside her for the moment when she reconnects with the son she spoke to him of only once.

He pleads with Sally to stopping killing everything in sight and quickly learns how to edit videos and has no problem with being her cameraman to earn her help.

He ignores the annoying medium but doesn't kill her because who knows why.

And he sleeps with Liz almost every night – reading a book when he's not watching her face.

Yeah, they keep his secret pretty well.

But when he finds out about the cancer it breaks his heart all over again.

He knows it's strange to realize how much he knows himself now – thanks to Liz – that he would hate the man, whoever he was, that managed to steal her heart from him.

He would fantasize about his murder every single day.

But if she found someone – if Liz found someone worthy, - someone she thought was worthy of her attention he'd let her go.

He wanted that for her.

More than anything.

The life he had imagined they would have – he was going to let her have even if it wasn't with him.

But there was a part of him that felt so very, very, very selfish for wanting her to stay close.

To stay with him for eternity – always by his side.

So, he might be the first person to thank ol' Jesus H. Christ for cancer but Liz had always said he was eccentric.

And hell, he wouldn't be at the Cortez if he _was_ a good person.

* * *

Part 13 – Day After

The day after Liz dies he wonders what he did to be so lucky.

When he finally has her in his arms a piece of him is fixed.

When she holds him down and rides him into oblivion, sweat rolling down his chest.

When they lay together afterward – murmuring more "I Love You's."

But this time out loud, very loud.

In fact, he says it every other moment, hoping she knows, that she remembers, that repetition _really is_ the key to memorizing something.

* * *

Part 14 - The End

The murders pick back up again at the hotel and there are times when Tristan helps Sally kill tourists that annoy Liz the right shade of irritation.

There are even times when they, he and Liz, kill together.

Kissing each other as the blood falls down their hands.

Liz's son visits ever so often and brings (one, two, three) babies with him each named beautiful exotic names like Isabella, Magdalena and Philomena, names that Tristan's pretty sure Liz had a hand in.

And they read romance books like "Pride & Prejudice" and "Anna Karenina," he reads books to her like "1984," and "Native Son." And she reads to him "Wuthering Heights" and "The Odyssey." And they (eventually) watch movies on a rather large flatscreen and they learn about alternative rock, and he raps only for Liz to almost die (again) with laughter.

(And he really doesn't mind that she's laughing because he'd do anything to make her smile.)

And they sit at the front desk, arguing about Aristotle, and he drinks blood & coffee. And she kisses him behind the desk when she has to show guests upstairs. He murmurs his gratitude when she fills his glass back up. Their day is picturesque in that they just simply have to be.

And he doesn't mind knowing that they'll be together forever because it's all he's wanted since the very first time she's looked at him and said,  
"Young men today are always so forward."

* * *

 **AN:/ I crancked this out last night because I've recently become obsessed with AHS and realized there was no Fanfiction about my FAV. characters from Hotel! BOOO!**

 **Anyways thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Please Read/Fav/Review!**


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